


Stuffed With Love

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belly Rubs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eating, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Food, Gabriel threatens to withhold pie, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 05, Supernatural Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel knows where to press to make Dean cave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuffed With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge for November’s prompt ‘Food/eating.’

This Thanksgiving might have been his best yet.

Dean stretched back on the sofa. He dragged his sore ankles - courtesy of yesterday’s hunt - up onto the coffee table, undoing the zipper and popping open the buttons on his jeans. There were few occasions where he wouldn’t control his intake of food, but Sam had found this amazing diner, plates heaped high with turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and weird but tasty bread things Sam called popovers.

Don’t even get Dean started on the pie.

No, seriously, don’t even ask him how many pieces he ate in how many different varieties.

As far as Dean was concerned, trying to stay one step ahead of this apocalypse business earned him a good meal or two. Even Sam had _somewhat_ indulged after Dean wouldn’t stop pushing turkey on him, and that was if indulged meant shredding the turkey to put on his salad. At least Sam had pie; it would’ve been a crime if he hadn’t.

“Good meal, Dean-o?”

Gabriel heavily plopped down onto the couch beside Dean, taking up as much of the couch as he possibly could. There would have been a time where Dean would glare, or at least button his pants back up, but Sam had been labeling them a thing behind Dean’s back to Cas the last month or so. Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Whatever Dean and Gabriel had was tentative at best, which was how Dean liked it anyway. He’d dated guys before, but not exactly archangels with the ability to rip you in two with a snap of their fingers. Not that he didn’t trust Gabriel, because he did, because he had to if he wanted to be in any sort of anything with the trickster himself. Whether it was love or mutual obligation with a side of love that kept them together, that made them prone to share a bed and watch TV together and curl up under the stars when they were in a part of the country where they were most visible, Dean didn’t know. Whatever they had felt deep though. Sam had got this out of him and told Dean that it was a good thing. That it wasn’t something to run and hide from.

Dean had done that already, running and hiding for a while until Gabriel honest to god coaxed him out of the shell he was hiding in and promptly started courting Dean, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. There were candlelit dinners and coconut cream pies and white carnations.

Roses were lustful and erotic, Gabriel argued. Carnations were more mellowed down, but they weren’t any less powerful in their intent. Dean hadn’t wanted to ask about that intent, but he still wondered about it even now. He refused to look up carnations online and took pains to make sure Sam didn’t find out about it, since he would no doubt tell Dean exactly what they meant. He preferred to keep it up in the air. If it was some joke then he would let Gabriel play with him on it.

He was more concerned that it wasn’t a joke. That it meant something Dean wasn’t ready to learn.

There was a lot about Gabriel that Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to know about.

Dean was in a good mood tonight, so he felt more than a little indulgent. “You should’ve seen all the pies, man. Pecan, custard, boston cream….” Gabriel scooted closer to Dean and he trailed off, letting the archangel manhandle Dean onto his lap.

“Belly rub?” The archangel offered, hands already splayed out on Dean’s slightly distended belly.

Dean liked that about Gabriel. He never went about and just did something anymore, he always asked. Like he didn’t need Dean to say yes but he wanted him to. “Yeah,” Dean breathed out. If he wasn’t breathless at Gabriel’s intimacy then he definitely was when Gabriel started rubbing his stomach in all the right places with just the perfect amount of pressure. Dean enjoyed that it wasn’t just sex all the time with them. If he wasn’t in the mood then he could just chill on the couch with Gabriel, who would keep his hands off Dean if Dean asked.

He kinda liked Gabriel’s hands on him though.

Gabriel stole the remote with one hand still massaging Dean’s belly, turning the channel to some home improvement one. This usually annoyed Dean, but tonight he was content to just sit back and let Gabriel have what he wanted. It wasn’t much, it was becoming less and less as he and Gabriel started to become more and more of a _thing._ God, he hated that word.

“So I guess that means you’re too stuffed to try my huckleberry pie then, huh?”

Dean reddened as Gabriel pressed his nose against Dean’s ear, moving his hands away from Dean’s stomach but then wrapping an arm languidly around Dean’s waist. Gabriel pushed back against the cushions and Dean followed, trapped in Gabriel’s lap now despite seconds ago merely falling into his lap and then resting there. The mention of more pie sounded good to him then, and he didn’t want to hurt Gabriel’s feelings, but there was a wicked smirk on Gabriel’s lips and Dean pinched the flesh at Gabriel’s waist in retaliation.

Gabriel squirmed but he didn’t release Dean from his hold. “Don’t be cruel, Gabe. You’ve never been one to withhold pie from me.”

“Don’t think I’m one to withhold _anything_ from you, kiddo. If you want to be fair here.”

Dean sighed sleepily in acquiescence and Gabriel shifted, maneuvering them into a much more comfortable position. The tight hold on Dean didn’t bother him then, he was too cozy to protest. “You save a slice for me tomorrow and we’ll spend the day in bed together. I know you’ve been saving up a bottle of whip cream.”

The archangel chuckled, ruffling Dean’s hair and pressing a kiss into Dean’s cheek.

“Sounds like a plan.”

**FIN**


End file.
